


Like What You See

by bcole4



Series: It Could Be Me [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Cheating, Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcole4/pseuds/bcole4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things to think about, a lot of things to try and analyze. But Ryan never really sticks on those things. He just thinks about Brendon. He still does, all the time.</p><p> </p><p>(A year later, in which recording an album can be a little difficult)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan wakes up too early, his back pressed to Brendon’s chest. It’s a result of the bed that he’s not quite used to yet and the fact that, yet again, Brendon has managed to wrap himself in most of the covers, leaving Ryan pretty damn cold. He checks the clock. 6:30. He doesn’t need to be awake for another three hours at least, but he doesn’t know if he can go back to sleep, so he doesn’t try. Instead he does the same thing he does every time he wakes up this early (which has been happening a lot since they got to Maryland). He thinks.  
  
And, honestly, there’s a lot to think about. In the past year, everything in Ryan’s life has changed. Brendon effectively moved in when Ryan took him back, and it’s been a crazy ride ever since. Brendon’s been working two jobs- the bartending job and a new job making smoothies somewhere downtown- in order to make everything work. Pete’s band took off, which everyone expected except Pete. And locally, Panic! At the Disco started being a bigger deal. They got Spencer to play drums (after a lot of heated conversations that ended in Brendon shouting “Ryan, I don’t want to sleep with him, that’s IT.”) and started really writing some good things. They played a lot in Vegas. Things were going perfectly.  
  
Then, all at the same time, Brendon’s parents cut contact with him (a result of the band, the boyfriend, and an abrupt announcement one day that no, he didn’t believe in God, never had) and Ryan’s dad died. Both of them were in the same place, caught between the relief of freedom and the grief that comes with the loss of someone you love unconditionally. It was a tough month for both of them, both needing to be there for the other while also nursing their own, deep wounds. Ryan had nightmares constantly, either about his dad hitting him or about his dad being dead. But Brendon was there for him as much as he could be. They wrote dark songs, they stayed in bed a lot, they got through it. And they came out the other side more in love than Ryan ever thought possible for two people. He’d always been a little scared of Brendon leaving, but after that month, he knew he didn’t have any reason to be nervous.  
  
And a little while after that, Pete came around with his fame and his high status at his label and told Panic that they needed to get out of Vegas, so they were getting a record deal. Ryan remembers Brendon’s reaction perfectly. It was one of the few moments that Ryan’s ever seen him go still and silent. He was shocked. That night, they made love perfect and slow. And everything was perfect again. They were happier than they’d been in a while.  
  
And suddenly, here they are in Maryland recording a goddamn _album_. Ryan writes and Brendon sings and it’s like this otherworldly experience, knowing that countless people are going to hear Brendon singing Ryan’s words, the perfect combination of the two of them. It’s hard some days. Some days Ryan thinks maybe they rushed into this. They packed up and moved out to Maryland without one look back. Ryan misses his apartment, his futon. He still has dreams about his dad. He wonders if Brendon still thinks about his parents, but they never talk about it. He’s not sleeping very well and he’s noticed that Brendon smokes at least a pack a day.  
  
There are a lot of things to think about, a lot of things to try and analyze. But Ryan never really sticks on those things. He just thinks about Brendon. He still does, all the time. He still looks at Brendon smoking, eating, sitting around, and marvels at how lucky he is that he got him. It’s no secret that Brendon probably hated him when they first met, but Ryan’s always been infatuated with Brendon. He never thought he could get Brendon to settle down, and now that he has, he still has to pinch himself. He still can’t go through a day without thinking about Brendon’s skin under his hands, Brendon’s mouth against him. He feels like a teenager. It feels like the honeymoon phase won’t ever end. It just gets interrupted by things like artistic differences and bursts of jealousy. It definitely hasn’t been perfect, but they never go to bed angry. They never go to bed apart. Ryan loves Brendon, through and through, with his heart and soul. And that exhilarates Ryan and scares him on a daily basis.  
  
His thoughts are interrupted by Brendon shifting around. Ryan briefly considers trying to regulate his breathing, pretend he’s still asleep, but then he hears Brendon from behind him.  
  
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Brendon says, lowering his voice. Ryan laughs.  
  
“It’s too early for a good morning,” he replies.  
  
“Have trouble sleeping again?”  
  
“Yeah, a little bit.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Ry.” Brendon pulls Ryan closer, runs a hand down Ryan’s side until he reaches his thigh. “Anything I can do to make it better?”  
  
Ryan’s breathing hitches. Eventually, he promises himself, _eventually_ he won’t get hard just from Brendon touching his thigh and breathing against his neck. “I don’t think so. Sorry, B.”  
  
“Alright. I think it’s breakfast time though. You want breakfast?”  
  
What Ryan wants is to stay in bed all day. Smoke some cigarettes. Forget about the pressure that comes from being in the studio. But that’s not possible. And Brendon is great at breakfast. “Breakfast is good.”  
  
“Bacon and eggs?”  
  
“Bacon and eggs.”  
  
Brendon climbs out of bed. Ryan watches him leave the bedroom and smiles. Yeah, it’s been a good year. And he knows there’s more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel timeeee. If you want to know the plot, just look at the tags and see if you can gather some info that way. Read the first if you haven't yet! Comments and kudos are the best encouragement :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But if you really think you and Brendon are okay, you need to look a little harder at things.”
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “Figure it out! I’m in the studio two days and all I can see is tension. Don’t tell me you can’t.”

The studio is always hard. It’s like every fight Ryan and Brendon have ever had about music escalates to a ridiculous degree. Normally, it wouldn’t bother Ryan as much as it’s bothering him right now, but  this isn’t just any song. It’s Lying. And Brendon’s fucking it up.  
  
“You’re not singing it right!” Ryan shouts in the middle of the recording, stopping everyone in the middle of the song. Brendon gives him this look, this mixture of anger and exasperation and apology, and Ryan knows he’s said the same thing five times in the past hour, but right now that doesn’t matter.  
  
“How the fuck am I doing this wrong?” Brendon asks, looking sad and tired, and Ryan’s heart almost breaks. Almost.   
  
“You’re shouting it.”  
  
“It’s an angry song!”  
  
“But it’s not just about anger.”  
  
Brendon looks genuinely confused. “What else is this about?”  
  
Ryan is dumbfounded. “Really? What do you think this is about? Think about it.” He can’t say it’s about sex, it’s about the erotic attraction that Ryan has to Brendon. But he can’t believe Brendon doesn’t get that. Suddenly, he’s pissed. He’s pissed that Brendon doesn’t get it, that Brendon lives with him, that Spencer’s in the fucking band, that they uprooted themselves to come to goddamn Maryland. The room is closing in on him, and he’s never wanted a drink so much in his life. At least it would give him an excuse to be as violent as he wants to be right now.  
  
Instead of saying any of this out loud, he drops his guitar and leaves the studio.  
  
He gets as far as just outside of the back entrance before he falls to the ground, sitting against the building with his knees to his chest. He takes a few deep breaths before deciding he really needs a cigarette.   
  
He doesn’t smoke nearly as much as Brendon (well, nicotine anyway), and it always tastes disgusting, but the cigarettes calm him down without making him spacey like the pot does. After one drag, he feels better. That is, until he hears a familiar voice above him.  
  
“That was quite a scene. You know, I’m the only one who gets to be a diva.”  
  
Ryan frowns up at Pete. “Go away. Don’t you have a tour or something?”  
  
“Not for a while,” Pete says, cheerfully, sitting down next to Ryan. “So what’s up? I’ve been here for, like, two days and I’m already nervous.”  
  
“Recording is just… It’s harder than I thought it would be. I mean, after… you know.”  
  
“Yeah, I do. Have you gone back to the cemetery since you buried him?”  
  
“No reason to.”  
  
“You’re a liar,” Pete says, and he’s serious. Almost solemn. He looks older than he is. “Have you talked to Brendon about it?”  
  
“What do I say? I don’t want to record?”  
  
“I hope not. But if you let him in on what’s going on, you can have some support.”  
  
“I told you. Is that not good enough support?”  
  
Pete gives Ryan a look. “Brendon’s, like, your mate for life. I think he can help you a bit more.”  
  
Ryan takes a long drag, then says, “Maybe.” Then, because he’s dying to know, he asks, “How are you, though? With Mikey and all.”  
  
Pete stiffens, but his answer is nonchalant. “I don’t really know, we don’t talk much anymore.”  
  
“Because he’s on tour?”  
  
“Because we broke up, you idiot.”  
  
“You broke up because he’s on tour.”  
  
“Whatever. I think he’s dating the guitarist in his band.”  
  
“Ray?”  
  
“No, the other one.”  
  
“Frank? Wait, I thought his brother was dating Frank.”  
  
“Thought wrong, I guess.” He pauses, then sighs. “Now I need a cigarette.”  
  
Ryan laughs. “Nah. You got me. We’ve got each other. We’re all the support we need.”  
  
Pete just looks at Ryan, and Ryan looks back. Later, he’ll realize that he saw the shift in Pete’s eyes and could’ve stopped it. But right now, all he sees is the color in Pete’s eyes, how he never noticed them in all the years they’ve been friends.   
  
And suddenly, Ryan can’t think about Pete’s eyes, or anything at all, because Pete’s kissing him. And it’s not a stupid spin-the-bottle kiss, either. Pete’s lips are pressed firmly to Ryan’s, and his hand is tangling in Ryan’s hair, and Ryan tells himself that he doesn’t have time to process all this when he starts kissing back.   
  
He grips Pete’s sweatshirt and opens his mouth when Pete runs his tongue greedily along Ryan’s lower lip. He kisses back, urgently, like exploring Pete’s mouth will lead to some great discovery. In his head, he takes inventory of the differences between Pete and Brendon. Pete’s broader than Brendon, he kisses a little more messily, he makes a lot of noises that are more high-pitched than Brendon’s. He doesn’t hold onto Ryan like Brendon does. Part of Ryan doesn’t want Brendon to see this, but a small part of Ryan really does.  
  
Ryan doesn’t have time to analyze that, though, because he snaps out of his haze the second he feels Pete reach for his thigh. A split second later, he becomes painfully aware that he’s half-hard, and for the first time in a year, it’s not Brendon’s fault.   
  
He scrambles back, nervous and ashamed. “What the fuck, Pete?!”  
  
“I don’t know,” Pete answers quietly. He doesn’t sound indignant or proud. He sounds sorry, and it does melt Ryan’s heart a little. But that doesn’t change this.  
  
“We just- we just made out. We’ve been friends pretty much forever and we just- we really just did that. Brendon’s in the studio right now, thinking I’m letting off steam.”  
  
“Well, you just did.” If Ryan didn’t know Pete as well as he does, he may have missed the fact that a light smile is playing across Pete’s lips.  
  
“This isn’t funny, Pete! You know that faithfulness is a huge issue in my relationship with Brendon. You saw it, you were there. I’ve worked for a year to get past that and now it’s me. I just fucked everything up.”  
  
“Calm down,” Pete says. “You didn’t fuck everything up. Look, I’m sorry, alright? This was- it was a mistake. I don’t really know what came over me. I’m having trouble with this whole Mikey ordeal, and you’ve got issues with Brendon, and I just thought-“  
  
“I don’t have issues with Brendon,” Ryan interrupts, angry and hurt.  
  
Pete looks at him for what feels like forever. Then he gets up and says, “Look, what just happened, yeah, that was wrong, we’re on the same page about that one. But if you really think you and Brendon are okay, you need to look a little harder at things.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Figure it out! I’m in the studio two days and all I can see is tension. Don’t tell me you can’t.”  
  
Pete leaves, slamming the door behind him. Ryan steps on the cigarette that fell out of his hand. Yeah, things are tense. Nobody thought recording would be this big of a fucking deal. He and Brendon aren’t having problems. If anything, Ryan’s the one with problems and Brendon’s the one fixing them. And where does Pete get off, anyway, using Ryan’s _problems_ as an excuse to kiss him like that?  
  
Why had Ryan kissed back?  
  
Whatever, Ryan thinks, annoyed. It happened and now they’re putting it past them because Ryan does NOT have time for this right now. It’s not worth thinking about anyway.  
  
He goes back into the studio, they lay down a different song. They’ll try “Lying” again some other time. Right now, all Ryan wants to do is go home with Brendon, apologize, kiss him until his lips are raw.  
  
So it’s a little scary, when they do finally get home, that the second Ryan does kiss Brendon, all he can think about is Pete’s mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "At the time, I would’ve done anything for him. And if he was gonna reciprocate, even for two seconds, I was gonna take advantage of that. Ya know?”
> 
> Ryan nods. He does get it. He knows how weird last summer was, and he knows what it means to feel like you’re losing something. He feels like he’s losing himself.

The next week is, thankfully, uneventful. Pete goes back to Chicago for a few days to get ready for tour, and Panic is doing okay. They don’t go back to Lying, but they lay down some tracks that Ryan doesn’t totally hate. Brendon still dotes on him, and Ryan still loves him for it. It’s almost like nothing has changed.

Except.

Except that Ryan hasn’t had a good night’s sleep all week. If he’s not dreaming about his dad, he’s dreaming about Pete, which is even weirder. He feels different somehow, like he’s an outlaw or something. He hates it, but he kind of likes it, too.

One day, it’s just him and Spencer in the studio. It’s tense, as usual when they’re alone. There’s a lot of shit between them, and Ryan doesn’t exactly know how to navigate the we-slept-together-and-then-you-hooked-up-with-my-boyfriend dynamic. So he decides it’s time to clear the air.

“Spence?” Ryan asks, his voice a little tight.

Spencer looks up from his drums, clearly surprised. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something kind of frank?”

“Go ahead.”

“When you made out with Brendon that day in my apartment… Well, I guess what I want to know is why.”

Spencer gives him a look closely resembling a squirrel that knows it’s going to be run over. “Is this one of those ‘answer it wrong and I’m dead’ things?”

“Not at all. Really, I just wanted to know.”

Spencer sighs. “Okay, it’s just… Here’s the thing about me and Brendon. I thought we were together, he didn’t. He just had this power over me for a long time. And I saw him slipping away, I saw him falling ffor you. I just wanted that last taste before I really gave up. At the time, I would’ve done anything for him. And if he was gonna reciprocate, even for two seconds, I was gonna take advantage of that. Ya know?”

Ryan nods. He does get it. He knows how weird last summer was, and he knows what it means to feel like you’re losing something. He feels like he’s losing himself.

“I also told him to go find you that night you got back together, so I don’t want you to think I still harbor anything.”

“You told him to find me?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah. He was really mopey. You make him so happy, Ryan.”

Ryan smiles despite the twisting in his gut. He can’t believe he fucked himself over. With Pete. “Thanks. He makes me happy. You’re alright, Spencer Smith.”

“You, too, Ryan Ross.”

After that, Spencer and Ryan make a point to talk, and Spencer’s actually a really cool dude. Everything’s the way it should be, besides the fact that Ryan feels a pang of guilt every time he looks at his boyfriend.

Then Pete comes back.

It starts off okay. Pete is a little awkward around Ryan, but nothing happens, and that relieves Ryan to no end. He keeps thinking somehow Brendon will find out, but Brendon doesn’t. Things are okay. They’re going to be okay.

Then one night, a few days later, Brendon and Ryan get home from the studio. Ryan’s tired, he’s cranky, and all he wants to do is sleep. Brendon, of course, has other plans.

“God, baby, you looked so good today in the studio,” Brendon purrs against Ryan’s neck on the couch. Two seconds ago, he was thinking about how much he hated the couch that wasn’t theirs. He was thinking about Vegas. But now, he’s thinking about Brendon’s hands, his skin. He sighs. It’s incredible how much Brendon improves his mood.

“You didn’t look so bad yourself,” Ryan replies, turning his head to kiss Brendon. Their tongues collide almost instantly, and Ryan can almost taste Brendon’s want in his mouth. He shifts and lets Brendon climb on top of him. 

“Not as good as you,” Brendon whispers, straddling Ryan’s hips and nipping at his neck. “You were writing lyrics today, weren’t you? You’re beautiful when you write. God, I just wanted… right there in the studio…” 

Ryan freezes. He’d written those lyrics on his phone. His phone, which is not in his pocket.

“Brendon. I left my phone in the studio.”

Brendon pulls back, obviously taking a cue from the lack of lust in Ryan’s voice. “So?”

“I need it. What if someone steals it or something?”

“No one’s gonna steal your phone.”

“Get off, I need to go get it.”

“Ryan, the studio’s locked. You can’t get in, and neither can anyone else.”

“I just want to check,” Ryan says, slipping out from under Brendon. “If it is locked, I’ll be back in twenty minutes and we can continue this fun little game.”

Brendon sighs. “You’re such a technology whore. Come back soon or I’m getting myself off.”

Ryan smiles. “I don’t think you’ll need to do that.” He kisses Brendon goodbye and heads to the studio.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could say ‘Wow, Pete, that’s going a bit too far,’” Pete whispers, inching closer to Ryan, to his mouth. “Or you could say, ‘Shut up and kiss me’. Your pick.”

It’s unlocked, surprisingly. Ryan finds his phone right next to his guitar and is just about to leave when his fingers itch to play. He wants to play through Lying, or Build God, or anything, really. Maybe he’ll play something new. He briefly debates which is worse, his desire to play or his desire for Brendon, and he decides Brendon can wait an extra ten minutes.  
  
He picks up his guitar and picks sloppily through what he was writing today, a song for Brendon, just for him. He sings softly about long summers and fathers and accepting defeat. It needs a little work, he knows, but it’s the most intimate things he’s ever written. He can’t wait for Brendon to hear it.  
  
“That’s beautiful,” a voice says from behind him. Ryan jumps.  
  
“What are you doing here, Pete?”  
  
“Calm down. I’m the one paying for this studio, remember? Anyway, why does it matter? I can’t just hang out with my best friend?”  
  
And Pete has a point. They are best friends, even with that weird slip up. Hell, if he and Spencer can forgive and forget, he and Pete sure as hell can.  
  
“That song really is good,” Pete says, sitting on the floor next to Ryan. “Are you gonna put it on the album?”  
  
“No, it doesn’t fit. And it’s a long way from perfect. But it’ll go on some album, someday.”  
  
“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Pete asks, laughing. Ryan never realized how his eyes sparkle when he laughs.  
  
“I don’t care how it happens, there’s gonna be more than one album. With the band, solo, anything. Music is the only thing that keeps me going.”  
  
“Not Brendon?” Pete asks. And that feels, somehow, like crossing a line. So of course Ryan gets defensive.  
  
“Who are you to criticize my relationship?” he snaps.  
  
“Other than your best friend?” Pete replies, matching Ryan’s tone. “I’m the guy you cheated with. I’m the guy who sees the tension in this room every day. I’m the one who notices you ignoring everyone, including your boyfriend of a year. That’s not exactly healthy, is it, Ryan?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Ryan spits.  
  
Pete, in true Pete form, just smirks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”  
  
Two weeks ago, that would just be a thing Pete said to Ryan. They’d laugh it off and have a beer. But now, in the context of everything that’s going on, it sounds like Pete’s making a pass at him. It angers and exhilarates Ryan at the same time. And then there’s the way Pete’s looking at him and hell yeah, it’s a pass.  
  
“What am I supposed to say to that?” Ryan asks, his voice deeper than it should be. He puts down his guitar.  
  
“You could say ‘Wow, Pete, that’s going a bit too far,’” Pete whispers, inching closer to Ryan, to his mouth. “Or you could say, ‘Shut up and kiss me’. Your pick.”  
  
“Why is this happening?” Ryan whispers, allowing his eyes to slide closed.  
  
“That wasn’t one of the possible answers, sorry,” Pete breathes on Ryan’s lips before kissing him.  
  
It’s hesitant, which tells Ryan that Pete’s not interested in making Ryan uncomfortable, but it also tells Ryan that Pete means this on some level.  
  
Fuck it. Ryan guesses he means it too. So he kisses back.  
  
Pete wastes no time gripping Ryan’s hair and pulling him closer. Their tongues crash together clumsily. Ryan thinks wildly of high school, of making out with boys in his room and hoping his dad didn’t come crashing in. He lets his fingers trace Pete’s spine, his sides, his shoulders. Ryan thought he knew everything about Pete, but he never knew Pete like this.  
  
Pete pushes Ryan onto the ground, so he’s laying down and Pete’s on top of him. It’s a little uncomfortable at first- Pete’s shorter, but he’s heavy- so Ryan spreads his legs, almost without realizing it. Pete settles between them and keeps kissing Ryan, hard and fast and needy, and Ryan lets him, sighs into Pete’s mouth.  
  
Pete breaks away from Ryan, just for a second, just to get some air, and then starts mouthing at Ryan’s neck, groaning against the skin. Ryan chokes back a moan. He grips Pete’s hair, pulls a little, and closes his eyes. It’s almost too much, Pete’s tongue against Ryan’s throat, Pete’s erection against Ryan’s thigh, the feeling that there are too many clothes between them. Ryan tries to think of Brendon, tries to say no, but he’s having a hard time forming words.  
  
When Pete reaches for the button on Ryan’s jeans, Ryan manages to swat his hand away. He has a feeling that it will go that far at some point, but it’s not going to be tonight.  
  
Pete doesn’t protest. He just brings his hand to Ryan’s side and starts kissing him again. After a few seconds, he grinds down cautiously onto Ryan’s hips. This time, Ryan moans. He can’t hold it back, and it would be stupid to, anyway.  
  
Pete pulls away and smiles. “You like that?” Pete whispers, low, in a tone that Ryan’s never heard out of him before. Ryan looks into Pete’s eyes and, suddenly, he’s captivated. He just nods. Pete responds by grinding down on him again. Ryan moans.  
  
“Let go, Ry,” Pete whispers, bringing his face close to Ryan’s ear. “No one’s gonna catch us. And I want you.” He grinds his hips into Ryan’s, and this time Ryan reciprocates.  
  
Pete kisses him again, and Ryan throws his arms around Pete’s shoulders, wanting to keep him there. They kiss desperately and rut against each other, groaning at the contact. Ryan doesn’t think he’s felt anything this good in his life. Pete snakes a hand under Ryan’s shirt and rubs circles on Ryan’s hips, and it’s sensory overload again. He doesn’t know where to focus, on Pete’s mouth, his hands, or his hips. All he knows is he wants so much more than this.  
  
He comes with Pete’s name in his mouth, and Pete only lasts a few more seconds. Pete pulls away from Ryan a little bit and smiles sweetly. “Well,” he says, “I’m pretty sure the last time I came in my jeans was high school.” He laughs, and Ryan does, too, even though there’s a pit in his stomach. Talking about this makes it too real, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that.  
  
Pete looks at him. “Don’t freak,” he says, sounding exasperated but smiling broadly.  
  
“I mean, this is kinda weird,” Ryan admits, sitting up. “You’re my best friend, it wasn’t supposed to be anything more.”  
  
“We can’t really change the fact that it is something more.” Pete stops and looks at Ryan. “Isn’t it?”  
  
Ryan nods, unable to say it out loud.  
  
“So we can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later.”  
  
“Later,” Ryan decides. He’s tired, and suddenly he just wants Brendon.  
  
Pete nods. “Come by my apartment tomorrow after your session. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”  
  
“You better be,” Ryan replies, smiling.  
  
Pete laughs. “Night, Ryan.” He kisses Ryan on the cheek, gets up, and leaves.  
  
Ryan stays in the studio for approximately two seconds before he’s rushing out to get home. He wants to change, he wants to wrap himself around Brendon, he wants to sleep, he wants to cry.  
  
When he gets home, he finds Brendon asleep on the couch.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean, I want to sing it today. I know what it means.”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “Yeah. ‘Cause I want you, Ryan. I love you to death, but I also really fucking want you. And things have been hard and I still want you. I want- I need you. Every part of you. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what it means.”

When people ask Ryan who his first kiss was, he tells them the same story: Bianca Radkey, eighth grade. She was popular and he was awkward. They played seven minutes in heaven at Stacey Johnson’s birthday party. It propelled him socially. It’s a pretty typical story. And it’s mostly true.  
  
The only thing wrong with the story is that Bianca Radkey was not his first kiss.  
  
When Ryan was very young, his dad was a mildly successful banker. He was successful enough for a nice house, a good school, decent status, and rich friends. One of these friends happened to be Peter Wentz.  
  
Ryan can’t remember the story that well. George either met Peter in college or through work. Either way, they visited each other a lot. When Ryan was about eleven, Peter came to Vegas to visit. And he brought his sixteen year old son with him. Pete was short (Ryan was already Pete’s height), broad, and had a permanent scowl on his face. He was the most beautiful and fascinating thing Ryan had ever seen.  
  
Ryan spent the entire visit following Pete around, which wasn’t hard because Pete didn’t really have any use for Vegas or the burbs. On the second or third day of the visit, Pete started actually talking to Ryan, and they got really close really fast. Their days were spent hanging out and their nights were spent staying awake talking about everything from music to politics to their shared hatred of normalcy. There were a lot of times that Ryan thought he was a little in love with Pete, but then he remembered that he was a kid. And Pete was a god.  
  
The last night that the Wentzes were in Vegas, Pete and Ryan were sitting on Ryan’s bed talking about nothing. Ryan was getting sleepy- it was 4 am- and he laid down in a fetal position, his head on his pillow, trying hard not to touch Pete. But Pete surprised him by laying down behind Ryan and wrapping an arm around his stomach. He pressed his body to Pete’s, entirely without thinking, and his mind immediately flashed with a word he’d heard somewhere before: “Spooning.”  
  
Ryan turned around, heart racing, careful not to disturb Pete’s arm so that it would stay around his waist, and opened his mouth to say something. But Pete obviously didn’t want to hear it because he closed his mouth hesitantly around Ryan’s.  
  
Ryan had barely enough time to close his eyes and kiss back before Pete pulled away. “God, that was stupid,” he whispered, laughing. “Maybe when you’re older.”  
  
They remained friends through their whole lives. But between Ryan’s dad’s spiral into addiction, Pete’s crazy affair with Mikey, and Brendon, Ryan never had time to think about that night in his room in Vegas. He’d totally forgotten about it. Until now.  
  
He wakes up from a very detailed dream about his first kiss to the smell of eggs running through the apartment. He turns to Brendon’s side of the bed and Brendon’s not there. Ryan smiles. The domestic life ain’t so bad.  
  
He pads into the kitchen in his boxers. “Morning, babe,” he greets.  
  
“Hi,” Brendon says, smiling, from his place in front of the stove. Ryan walks over to him to kiss him good morning. Brendon is still smiling when he says, “You had a hard time finding you phone?”  
  
Ryan’s heart breaks at Brendon’s tone. It’s totally trusting, totally nonchalant. Brendon puts too much faith in Ryan, something Ryan’s never had a problem with until Maryland. “Yeah,” he says, hoping Brendon can’t hear the strain in his voice. “Sorry, I know I got back late.”  
  
“It’s fine. I’ll take a rain check.” Brendon winks as he hands Ryan a plate of eggs. All Ryan can do is smile.  
  
They eat in the living room, watching morning news shows and talking about their days. It’s all so… settled. Routine. Ryan never thought he’d get here with Brendon. He thought it would always be wild, emotional, dramatic. He loves that it’s not.  
  
“Do you have plans tonight?” Brendon asks, shoving eggs into his mouth.  
  
“I think Pete wanted me to come over. Talk about the rest of the schedule since he’s going on tour in a few weeks. So I might go hang out with him.” It’s almost scary how easy the lie falls off Ryan’s tongue.  
  
“Okay. I know Spencer and Jon were going bar hopping tonight. I might join them.”  
  
Ryan stiffens at the thought of Brendon drinking with Spencer, but he forces himself to calm down. _It’s okay, it’s cool_. “Sure, no big.”  
  
“Look at us, having friends. It’s like we’re almost social or something,” Brendon jokes, kicking Ryan’s foot lightly. Ryan forces a laugh and finishes his eggs. Then he goes to take a shower.  
  
He makes the water as hot as possible without really hurting him. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Pete. He knows he shouldn’t be with Pete at all, shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea. And he doesn’t want to. It’s just that when he gets in a room with Pete, he sort of forgets who he is and what his responsibilities are. All he knows is the curve of Pete’s smile and the warmth of his hands. Which is not good. But at the same time, it’s perfect.  
  
He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear Brendon come in until Brendon’s pulling the shower curtain back.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan shouts. He tries to pull the curtain back. Brendon lets him. Ryan keeps the curtain open just enough to see Brendon, who’s smirking.  
  
“You’re wasting the hot water.”  
  
“We’re not paying the bill,” is Ryan’s response.  
  
“Alright then. Anyway, I just wanted to say I think we need to do Lying today.”  
  
Ryan groans. “It was a disaster last time.”  
  
“Last time was like two weeks ago, Ryan. I know we’ve been avoiding it, but it’s the second to last song we have to record. And we should do it today. I’m feeling it today.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, I want to sing it today. I know what it means.”  
  
Ryan opens the shower curtain a little wider. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brendon replies, his voice low, like he’s revealing a secret. “Yeah. ‘Cause I want you, Ryan. I love you to death, but I also really fucking want you. And things have been hard and I still want you. I want- I need you. Every part of you. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what it means.”  
  
Suddenly, Ryan doesn’t care about Pete or the album or the fact that Brendon’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. He pulls Brendon into the shower, pushes him against the wall, and kisses him hard.  
  
Brendon moans immediately, his hand tanging in Ryan’s wet hair. Brendon’s getting soaked, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Ryan pushes against him, crowding him against the wall, licking into Brendon’s mouth like he’s going to die without Brendon’s tongue. Brendon responds eagerly, kissing Ryan with a gentle force only Brendon can give. Ryan pulls away only to peel off Brendon’s now-drenched shirt and to wait for Brendon to pull off his pajamas. They throw the clothes out of the shower and kiss each other more. Ryan thinks that showers were probably invented for just this purpose. Fuck getting clean.  
  
Brendon pushes him into a wall, and it feels good, being held like that, Brendon’s hands on his waist, the cold of the tile cutting the heat of the water. They’re both hard and just barely rubbing against each other and it’s driving Ryan crazy. And then Brendon pulls away, and Ryan’s confused until Brendon drops to his knees.  
  
Ryan inhales deeply. “You don’t have to-“ he whispers. It comes out strained, too high pitched. Brendon just smiles up at him.  
  
“I want to.” Brendon sounds totally cool, voice husky, and Ryan’s jealous of how much he can hide what he’s feeling. But he doesn’t get to think too much about it because Brendon is mouthing at Ryan’s erection.  
  
Brendon’s given Ryan head maybe three times since they’ve been together. Which is not a problem at all. Ryan likes to give, and Brendon likes to receive. Sometimes it’s nice this way, though. Especially because Brendon’s so fucking good at it. He licks up and down the length of Ryan’s dick before taking Ryan into his mouth. Ryan moans and leans his head back against the tile.  
  
Brendon doesn’t waste time. Within seconds, he’s taking all of Ryan, and it’s all Ryan can do to keep his hips still. He tries to just focus on the feeling of Brendon’s tongue, heavy and wet against him. Then Brendon lets out a short moan and grips Ryan’s thighs, his fingernails digging into Ryan’s skin, and Ryan can feel it everywhere on his body, and he can’t really control himself. He tangles his fingers in Brendon’s hair and thrusts hard. Brendon chokes once, but makes no effort to pull away, so Ryan keeps going. He pushes into Brendon’s mouth hard and fast, not thinking about anything except how it feels, how when they record today Brendon’s going to sound so beautifully wrecked, and Ryan will know it’s because of him, just because of him.  
  
He comes hard at the thought. His vision whites out just a little, and his mind gets a little foggy, but not enough to lose sight of the fact that Brendon’s taking it perfectly. When he’s done, Brendon pulls away and Ryan slumps a little, suddenly tired. Brendon laughs and kisses him. Ryan can almost taste himself in Brendon’s mouth, but mostly he just tastes Brendon.  
  
Brendon jacks off quickly, then they actually take a shower (in water that’s now freezing cold) and dry off. They go into the bedroom to change, but Ryan collapses on the bed instead, and Brendon follows suit.  
  
“You’re crazy,” Ryan whispers, smiling. “You’re not gonna be able to sing.”  
  
“Small sacrifices,” Brendon says before kissing Ryan.  
  
They make out lazily for a while, getting tangled together on the bed, and Ryan would love to do this all day, call off the session in favor of kissing his boyfriend. But after a while Brendon looks at the clock and says that they’re late, and Ryan knows that they’re gonna have to go. So they get dressed and head out of the apartment hand-in-hand, back to their regularly scheduled life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I know I suck at updating. I'm gearing up for finals so I haven't had time to give this the time I want to give it. Hopefully this can get you through the week and then I will update very regularly when Summer starts! Thank you for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah. You know I have feelings for you, Pete. Obviously I do. But I love Brendon and I don’t think it’s worth trying to sort through this right now. Maybe later, or if I’m not with Brendon anymore-“
> 
> “Oh, cut the shit, you’ll never leave Brendon. It makes sense. I’m not mad, it’s just… all these years and the past few weeks… I just wish I’d gotten to you before Brendon.”

The session is decent. Good, even. Brendon sounds amazing, singing lower than usual because of his voice, and he really sounds like he does mean what he’s singing. He’s beautiful. Ryan’s half-hard all day. So it kind of sucks that they’re not going home after the session.  
  
The guys give them space to say goodbye, which Ryan really appreciates. He kisses Brendon in the studio, and something makes him say “You promise nothing’s going to happen with Spencer?”  
  
Brendon laughs. “Ry. Aren’t you, like, friends with him now? Calm down. I don’t want him.”  
  
Ryan nods, hating himself for asking. “I’ll be back earlier than you, I think. Do you want me to pick anything up on the way home?”  
  
“No. Just be awake when I get home. You know how I get when I drink.”  
  
Ryan smiles. “This morning wasn’t enough for you?”  
  
“It’s never enough,” Brendon says. He kisses Ryan’s cheek. “Behave yourself tonight.”  
  
“You too. Love you.”  
  
“Love you.” Brendon leaves the studio to meet up with Spence and Jon. Ryan tries to waste a few minutes cleaning up, but he’s too nervous. Pete left about an hour ago, and Ryan’s convinced himself that it was to make some kind of impression on Ryan. He might as well just get this over with.  
  
He gets in his car and drives to the hotel Fueled By Ramen’s put him up in while Panic is recording. It always makes Ryan laugh whenever Pete calls his hotel room his “apartment” just because it has a kitchenette. Lots of things that Pete does make Ryan laugh. But he can’t think about those things right now. He’s got to do this fast and (hopefully) make it painless.  
  
He goes up to room 1002 and knocks on the door. Pete opens it really quickly, as if he was waiting on the knock. He’s changed out of his jeans and hoodie and put on a v-neck and really tight jeans that, frankly, make Ryan’s mouth water. But he keeps his resolve.  
  
“Ryan!” Pete says, smiling.  
  
“Hey, Pete,” Ryan replies, walking into the room.   
  
Pete walks to his fridge and says, “Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got beer, wine, sparkling grape juice?”  
  
Ryan laughs. “I allow myself to drink, Pete. I’ll take a beer.” There’s nowhere in the room to sit except the bed, which is awkward, but it’ll have to do. Ryan sits.  
  
Pete joins him, PBR in hand. Ryan laughs. “It’s like high school,” Ryan says, pointing at the beer.  
  
“It’s nostalgia in a can,” Pete counters, opening his up. He takes a drink. Ryan follows.  
  
No one’s really saying anything, so Ryan decides he should start. “Okay, so I know things have been kind of weird…”  
  
“Yeah, and I’m really sorry about that. We should’ve talked about this earlier,” Pete cuts in.  
  
“Right,” Ryan says, losing resolve. He didn’t realize that Pete thought this was a real thing. “But like, think about it. How is this going to work?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Pete says. “But we can sort of figure it out as we go along.”  
  
Ryan sighs. “Pete, I didn’t come here to figure it out. You know I can’t do this.”  
  
Pete just looks at Ryan. Then he takes a huge gulp of his beer and says, “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. You know I have feelings for you, Pete. Obviously I do. But I love Brendon and I don’t think it’s worth trying to sort through this right now. Maybe later, or if I’m not with Brendon anymore-“  
  
“Oh, cut the shit, you’ll never leave Brendon,” Pete says, sounding resigned. “It makes sense. I’m not mad, it’s just… all these years and the past few weeks… I just wish I’d gotten to you before Brendon.”  
  
This is getting too serious too fast for Ryan and he doesn’t really know what to say. “I mean, you had Mikey, and that was great while it lasted. I know you loved him. And I’m sure you’re meeting lots of people while you’re touring.”  
  
“Yeah,” Pete says, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. Then, suddenly, he says, “I’m really into Patrick, I think.”  
  
Which is news to Ryan. “Really? Is he interested in you?”  
  
“I don’t think so. ‘Cause I’m a guy, and I don’t think he’s into that. But I’m not even into him sexually. I mean, I am. But it’s more cerebral. We get each other on this ridiculous level. It’s nuts.”  
  
“No shit,” Ryan says, drinking his beer.  
  
Pete continues about Patrick, and then the conversation shifts to other things. They talk for hours, Pete putting away beer after beer, Ryan settling for just the one. They keep taking, lounging on the bed, forgetting about the time or even the reason Ryan even came over. It’s like old times. Then Pete says drunkenly, “Remember our first kiss?”  
  
“In my room?” Ryan says, uncomfortable. “Yeah.”  
  
“That was so fucked,” Pete says. “You were a small child. I bet you thought you were a big shot or something. I bet you told all your friends that a 16 year old kissed you.”  
  
“Nope,” Ryan answers.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I was 11. I couldn’t go into school and say a 16-year-old _boy_ kissed me. Social suicide.”  
  
“Fuck society,” Pete says, then laughs. “I sound so ridiculous.”  
  
“You just sound like you,” Ryan says, smiling, feeling something welling up in his chest.  
  
“You were a really cute 11-year-old. Like, anyone could tell you were gonna be a really attractive adult.”  
  
Ryan decides he should leave before he asks if Pete thinks he is an attractive adult. “You seem a little drunk. Do you need anything?”  
  
Pete smiles stupidly. “Put me to bed,” he says.  
  
Ryan obliges, letting Pete get settled before tucking him in. He gets a glass of water and puts it next to Pete’s nightstand. He’s about to leave when Pete stops him and says, “You’re the best best friend ever.”  
  
Ryan smiles. “You, too.” He kisses Pete’s forehead and goes home.  
  
Brendon’s already at the apartment by the time he gets back and he’s a little tipsy. “Are you aware,” he says from the couch immediately upon Ryan walking in the door, “that Scotch is a gift from god?”  
  
“I’ll take your word for it,” Ryan says, smiling and kissing Brendon deeply.   
  
Brendon pulls Ryan on top of him. “I got weed,” Brendon whispers on Ryan’s lips.   
  
Ryan pulls away and smiles. “And the best boyfriend award goes to…”  
  
Brendon giggles and pulls a baggie out of his back pocket. They readjust themselves on the floor and Ryan rolls a few joints. “Are you sure you want this tonight?” he asks Brendon, and Brendon nods eagerly.  
  
Ryan lights the joint and takes a giant hit. He feels all the tension leaving his body as he hands it to Brendon.  
  
“You came home late. I missed you,” Brendon whines.   
  
“Pete and I were just catching up, you know how it is.”   
  
Brendon nods as he inhales. They go through the weed quickly. Ryan feels lethargic and warm. Everything’s slowed down a little bit and Brendon’s mouth tastes sweet. He’s having trouble focusing, so he just gives up and lets Brendon do what he wants. Brendon’s always more assertive when he’s high, anyway. Ryan feels rather than sees the clothes being pulled off his body and he almost misses it when Brendon pushes into him. But god, does it feel good, getting fucked on the floor of their shitty apartment, Brendon whispering about how beautiful Ryan is tonight, Ryan dragging his nails down Brendon’s back. It’s like last summer, and it’s perfect.  
  
He’s completely forgotten about Pete.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose internet was down all day and decided to write another chapter woooo
> 
> ((Comments and kudos are lifeblood))


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You always do this. You always flail around and scream and bruise your heels till you get your way. Life is not a production. There is no audience. You can drop your fucking act, okay? Why do you think it took me so long to commit to you?"

Strangely enough, Ryan’s rejection brings him and Pete closer. They start hanging out at every opportunity. Pete’s going on tour in two weeks, and now that there’s no awkward will-we-or-won’t-we tension, they want to see each other as much as possible.  
  
Ryan has fun, going out to bars, seeing shitty shows, watching movie after movie with Pete. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. Getting out is good for him. He ignores the way his chest swells when Pete’s arm accidentally grazes his.  
  
The sessions are okay. They’re not good, but they never really are, and at this point Ryan doesn’t care. He’s tired of being a perfectionist. He just wants to hang out with Pete and come home to Brendon. If the album never gets made, at least he’d still be able to do that. Which he thinks is a totally fine mentality to have.  
  
Brendon, apparently, disagrees.  
  
It’s after about a week of staying out late and coming home to curl up in Brendon’s lap that Brendon finally says something. Ryan walks in, his body hurting from being pulled into a pit at a stupid hardcore show, and sits next to Brendon. Brendon says nothing. Ryan kisses Brendon’s neck, whispers a “hello”. Brendon pulls away.  
  
“What the fuck?” Ryan snaps, hurt.  
  
“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing?” Brendon asks, annoyed.  
  
“Kissing you?”  
  
“No, Ry. Bigger picture. What is going on with you? Hanging out with Pete all the time, not giving a shit in the studio. You’re getting sloppy. Do you need to talk about something?” Brendon sounds concerned, but Ryan ignores his tone.  
  
“Since when is it a problem that I’m hanging out with Pete? He’s my best friend, I can hang out with him if I want to. And nobody gives a shit in the studio. Why should I have to carry the band?”  
  
“Because it’s your fucking band? You started it, you got all of us together. You begged Spence to join when he dropped out of college. You established yourself as the person who carries the band, and now we’re all really worried about you.”  
  
“There’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
“Don’t give me that! You’re moody and tense the entire time we’re recording, and now all of a sudden you don’t care. That’s something to worry about! Did we do something? Did something happen?”  
  
“No, Brendon! Nothing happened! Jesus Christ, just drop it!” Ryan does not want to have this conversation. He doesn’t want to say that he’s finding new ways of letting go with Pete, that he doesn’t know how much he cares about the band right now. He just wants Pete and Brendon and that’s it. No fighting. No tension.  
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Shutting me out! I’m trying to have a real conversation with you! When was the last time that happened?”  
  
“Now is not the time for real conversations. There’s not a real conversation to have.”  
  
“Then when’s the right time?” Brendon asks, and he sounds broken, and if he gets up and leaves Ryan will actually die. So Ryan does what he does best. He panics.  
  
“FUCK, Brendon, just fucking drop it, okay?!? It’s fucking late and I don’t want to hear you telling me I’m some kind of mental case!”  
  
“I never said you were a mental case, Ryan, what the-“  
  
“And don’t get pissed at me for hanging out with Pete. I bet you’re getting all chummy with Spencer again, aren’t you? How’s that supposed to make me feel?”  
  
“This is not about jealousy, Ryan.”  
  
“I didn’t say it was!”  
  
“Can you stop yelling?” Brendon sounds tired, and it just makes Ryan even more upset.  
  
“Only if I never hear about this again!”  
  
Brendon sighs. The silence is oppressive. Ryan knows he’s making a fool of himself, but he doesn’t want to be wrong. He doesn’t want what he did with Pete to be wrong, he doesn’t want the way he feels to make him this guilty. He wants to sleep or hide or cry. But he can’t do anything.  
  
Finally, Brendon speaks. “You are so melodramatic.”  
  
“I am NOT melodramatic!”  
  
“You’re turning this into something so much bigger than it needs to be, Ryan! You’re honestly freaking out about me spending time with Spencer? _You_ fucked him to get my attention! You always do this. You always flail around and scream and bruise your heels till you get your way. Life is not a production. There is no audience. You can drop your fucking act, okay? Why do you think it took me so long to commit to you?”  
  
And that. That opens wounds that Ryan does not need to nurse right now. He can tell from the shock on Brendon’s face that he knows he was out of line, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he said it. And Ryan is pissed.   
  
He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t fight back. Sometimes when the only options you have are fight or flight, you just need to go. So Ryan does. He picks up his jacket and heads for the door. Right as he’s leaving, he hears Brendon say, “I miss you, Ry. I miss the way things used to be.”  
  
When Ryan leaves, he’s holding back tears.  
  
He has to smoke three cigarettes before he’s calm enough to drive. As he drives, he smokes more to loosen the tightness in his chest. He drives aimlessly for a while, knowing where he’s going to end up and avoiding it at the same time.  
  
After about 45 minutes, he stops trying to fight himself. He parks in front of the hotel and walks up to Pete’s room. He knocks. He thinks of how he’s going to explain this to Pete, how Pete’s going to respond. Pete’s always the best at advice. He just can’t wait to talk about it, get this feeling out of his system so he can go home and apologize.  
  
But then Pete opens the door. He’s wearing a hoodie with no shirt underneath, and his tattoos are dark against his skin. Nothing has ever looked so perfect to Ryan. Suddenly, he can’t say a word.  
  
“Ryan?” Pete says, worried, and Ryan thinks he must look like a mess. But his mouth is dry and doesn’t seem to work. He can’t get out the right words. He doesn’t even know what the right words are.  
  
Then, suddenly, he doesn’t care about words. He leans in and kisses Pete hard. And when Pete kisses back, it's like being saved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete looks like he’s close, and he whispers to Ryan, his voice hoarse, “Wanted this… wanted this for so long…”
> 
> “Yeah,” Ryan sighs, blissed out. “Yeah, me too.” And he doesn’t like that he said it, doesn’t like that it’s true, but he can’t really take it back.

Whenever Ryan does impulsive things, Pete just stays quiet and doesn’t ask questions. There has never been a time that Ryan has been more grateful for that than this moment.  
  
Pete’s mouth is occupied anyway, biting Ryan’s lips and licking at his neck. They’re still kissing when Pete pulls Ryan into the hotel room, and Ryan’s not sure how the door gets closed, but he is sure that he’s pressed up against it, Pete’s chest pressed hard against his, his knee wedging itself between Ryan’s thighs. The first moment of contact between Pete’s leg and Ryan’s crotch nearly sends him over the edge. He whimpers into Pete’s mouth. Pete responds by doing it again and pulling his hoodie off, dropping it to the floor. Then he starts unbuttoning Ryan’s shirt, and Ryan pulls away just enough to whisper “bed”.   
  
Pete looks at Ryan for a second, and Ryan doesn’t like the quasi-concern in his expression. But then he nods and pulls Ryan to the bed hurriedly. Pete falls onto the bed first and Ryan climbs on top of him, straddling Pete’s hips as he kisses him again. Pete finishes unbuttoning Ryan’s shirt and the amount of skin on skin contact Ryan’s met with is overwhelming. He runs his hands across Pete’s chest, his torso. He traces the tattoos on Pete’s arms and mouths at the one on his collarbone. Pete sighs, barely audible, and arches into Ryan’s touch, and Ryan is so blissed out already that he doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the rest of the night.   
  
“You’re beautiful,” Pete whispers, kissing Ryan again, fingers tangling in Ryan’s hair. Ryan moans in response.   
  
“Do you want to?” Pete asks quietly, sounding out of breath, and lying on top of him in bed like this, hearing him ask about sex, brings him back to that night in his bedroom all those years ago, when he felt things from just kissing Pete that he was too young to really understand. And suddenly, Ryan realizes he’s always wanted to. He nods.  
  
Pete smiles and kisses Ryan again before wiggling out from under him to go to the bathroom, probably for condoms and lube. Ryan falls against the bed. Even the feeling of the comforter, fluffy against him, makes him a little turned on. His nerves are hyperactive, and so is his brain, which has finally caught up with his body.  
  
He should probably bolt. Why the hell had he come, anyway? He shouldn’t have left in the first place. If he and Brendon yelled enough, it would’ve been fine. This bed is not the one he should be lying on top of tonight.  
  
Pete comes back to the bed, carrying a box of condoms and lube, and it really hits Ryan. This isn’t making out with each other without thinking. This isn’t hurried rutting against each other. This is real, actual, I-gave-consent-for-this _sex_. He’s a fucking idiot.  
  
He sits up, about to leave, But Pete doesn’t really get the message. He kisses Ryan again, long and deep and a little urgent, and kissing someone hasn’t felt this electrifying in forever, so Ryan forces his brain to shut up. He gives in, falling back onto the bed, spreading his legs to let Pete settle between them.   
  
Pete kisses Ryan everywhere he can- his lips, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, down to his earlobe and neck- and Ryan strokes Pete’s hair and runs his fingers along the circle of thorns around Pete’s neck, which have never been this fascinating to Ryan. As Pete kisses Ryan’s neck, he mumbles, “I wanna make this good for you, ya know?”  
  
“It already is. So good,” Ryan whispers. Pete looks up at Ryan and smiles.   
  
They make out for a little while longer, and Ryan can’t get enough of Pete’s lips, his tongue, the weight of his body on top of Ryan’s chest. It’s all so new in a way that Ryan hasn’t experienced in ages. It’s something he didn’t know he missed. When Pete reaches for the button on Ryan’s jeans, Ryan arches into the touch, craving any and all contact.  
  
They wrestle out of their jeans quickly. Pete’s skin is dark everywhere, and Ryan doesn’t even think he needs the sex at this point. He could just get off from looking at Pete leaning above him. Pete’s gorgeous in a more exotic way than Brendon- tan with a ton of tattoos and streaked eyeliner. He’s everything Ryan would be if he was confident enough, badass enough. Ryan is suddenly self-conscious, naked and pale underneath this guy who definitely has more experience than him.   
  
But Pete smiles and runs a hand down Ryan’s side. “I never thought I’d see you like this,” he whispers, and he looks like he’s in total awe of Ryan, and that’s all it takes for Ryan to feel good about himself again, to feel better than he has in weeks.  
  
Pete kisses Ryan slowly, their lips parting lazily. Pete’s hands wander for a while, stroking Ryan’s hips, his chest, his stomach, his cock, before Pete pulls away to coat his fingers in lube. Ryan’s body takes notice and his nerves light up, hyperaware of what Pete’s doing.  
  
The first finger slips in easily enough, but Pete still takes it slow. The press of it makes Ryan sigh, totally calm and totally wired all at once, and when Pete pushes in past his knuckle Ryan moans loudly.  
  
Pete smirks and adds another finger, working Ryan slowly, teasing him. Ryan feels full, in the best possible way, but it’s not enough. “More,” he whispers, and he’s surprised at how dry his throat is. “I’m not a teenage girl, Pete, come _on_.”  
  
Pete laughs, low and full, and adds another finger, working Ryan a little faster, pushing as deep as he can, curving his fingers to find just the right spot. And that’s it, that’s perfect, Ryan could come from the way this feels right now. But he doesn’t want to, he wants more. He needs it.  
  
“I’m ready, Jesus Christ, come on, _please_ ,” Ryan pants.  
  
Pete smiles greedily as he pulls his fingers out. “Begging, are we, Ross?” he says as he rolls the condom on, his voice deep, sexy. “That’s a little slutty, don’t you think?”  
  
“I don’t care what it is, I want you in me.”  
  
“Pushy,” Pete mocks, but he’s lined up with Ryan, and Ryan can feel the pressure, the almost-there push of Pete’s cock, and he _wants_.  
  
Pete finally, finally pushes in, and holy shit this is not what Ryan was expecting. Pete’s much wider than Brendon, and Ryan can feel the unfamiliar pleasurepain of the stretch. It burns, just a little, but in the best possible way. He feels full, lethargic, but unsatisfied. He shifts a little as Pete slowly gets deeper into him, and finally he just says, “You can fuck me Pete, I won’t break in half.”  
  
Pete listens pretty quickly. He shoves in faster, harder, and eventually the pain gives way to the best feeling ever. Ryan can already feel an orgasm pooling in his stomach and he hasn’t even touched himself. Every move that Pete makes inside him makes him feel warm, electric. Pete kisses Ryan as he’s fucking him, and the kiss is sloppy, but Ryan doesn’t care. He starts to move himself, trying to get Pete to go deeper. He reaches up to hold Pete’s back, and it’s slick from sweat. Ryan realizees that he’s sweating, too, and wonders how that happened.  
  
He shifts a little, and Pete shifts a little, and then Pete hits the right spot dead-on. Ryan’s brain whites out, as does his vision, and Pete must see the reaction because he keeps doing it and Ryan just… melts. He knows he’s making noise, but he’s not really sure what he’s saying. He’s only certain of how good he feels. Nothing can compare to this.  
  
And then Pete bites at Ryan’s earlobe and starts to jack him off, and it’s too much in all the right ways. He tries to hold it off because he wants this feeling to take him over for just a few more seconds, but he doesn’t have the mental power to hold it off for long. He comes hard, harder than he has in a long time, moaning Pete’s name.   
  
Pete looks like he’s close, and he whispers to Ryan, his voice hoarse, “Wanted this… wanted this for so long…”  
  
“Yeah,” Ryan sighs, blissed out. “Yeah, me too.” And he doesn’t like that he said it, doesn’t like that it’s true, but he can’t really take it back.  
  
Pete comes after a few quick thrusts, and Ryan has to fight to keep awake when Pete pulls out (he can feel the loss and he hates it), throws the condom away, and cleans both of them off with a t-shirt that was lying around. After, Pete lays down, not touching Ryan, and Ryan realizes Pete has no clue what to do. So he rolls over to face him.  
  
“Can I stay here tonight? With you?” Ryan whispers.  
  
“What’s the situation with Brendon?” Pete asks, and Ryan figured that would be a condition, but it doesn’t mean he wants to talk about it. He doesn’t answer.  
  
After a second, Pete whispers, “Okay.” He gets Ryan under the covers and wraps an arm around Ryan’s stomach, and it’s exactly like all those years ago, only so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo avoiding studying by writing smut is always fun. 
> 
> Quick note: I'm about 2/3 done with the story. This can obviously end one of two ways. I've got two endings in mind but y'all should tell me what ending YOU'D like to see (i.e. who Ryan ends up with). 
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You really gotta get your shit together. You don’t know what to do about Brendon, me, or the band, which you claim are the three most important things in your life. I know this year’s been hard, but life isn’t going to slow down, no matter how much you try to stop things from happening."

Ryan wakes up in the middle of the night, suddenly aware that he’s not where he normally sleeps. In his normal state, not totally sleepy and warm from sex, he wants to die. He can’t believe he’s done this to Brendon. He’s fucked everything up, big time. He did everything wrong tonight. He got in a fight, flipped out, left, and then fucked his best friend. He thinks really hard, but he can’t find a reason for it. He doesn’t know why he did it. Brendon doesn’t even know where he is right now.  
  
 _Brendon._ He can’t believe he had to cheat on Brendon to realize how much he loves him.  
  
Ryan slips out of Pete’s hold, finds his boxers, puts them on, and pads to the fridge. He opens it to find really nothing worth drinking. There’s some beer, some wine, and orange juice that looks pretty old. Ryan settles for tap water. He thinks he should leave, but he doesn’t actually want to. He doesn’t want to be rude to Pete, and the bed is comfortable, and objectively, last night was fucking incredible. He’s so confused. He’s never been more conflicted in his life. Suddenly, he’s tired again. He doesn’t want to drive home. He’ll make a quiet exit in the morning.  
  
He finishes his water and walks over to the bed to find Pete sitting up, picking at something on the comforter. “So I’m gonna guess that Brendon is still in the picture.”  
  
Ryan sighs. He was hoping to avoid this conversation, but it’s probably better that they have it. He slides into bed and lays on his stomach, his head facing Pete. “Are you gonna hate me when I say yes?”  
  
Pete sighs, too. “No, I figured it wasn’t going to end. You wanna talk about what happened?”  
  
“We got in a fight. About stupid shit.”  
  
“Like?”  
  
“He doesn’t think I care about the band.”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
“This is really great pillow talk,” Ryan snaps. But honestly, he really likes Pete’s way of talking things through. Pete’s like a therapist (probably because he’s had some experience with them). He just asks questions until you get to the root of the problem, then lets you figure out how to deal with it. Totally unlike Brendon, who just accuses you of things until you finally admit that you’re wrong.  
  
“Geez, sorry,” Pete says. “I mean, how are things with Brendon in general?”  
  
“I don’t know. We haven’t hit a rough patch, really, but that’s because we aren’t really doing anything. It’s just studio time and sleeping together. We don’t know how to handle everything.”  
  
“And you don’t talk about it because…?”  
  
“He doesn’t bring it up.”  
  
“Why don’t you bring it up?” Pete seems sincere about this, and getting honest relationship advice from your best friend, whom you just fucked, is really bizarre. So Ryan shuts down.  
  
“We’re done talking about Brendon.”  
  
“Okay.” Pete is still sitting up in bed, and Ryan is still staring at him. It feels like a scene from a movie. Like a breakup scene, except he and Pete aren’t dating.  
  
“You really gotta get your shit together,” Pete says finally. “You don’t know what to do about Brendon, me, or the band, which you claim are the three most important things in your life. I know this year’s been hard, but life isn’t going to slow down, no matter how much you try to stop things from happening. I don’t care what happens with any of it- with us, with your relationship, with the band- as long as you’re happy, Ryan. I miss how happy you used to be.”  
  
Ryan knows that that’s what Brendon was trying to say last night. But it’s nice to hear Pete say it like that. Ryan’s heart swells, and he lifts himself to kiss Pete gently. Pete returns the kiss for a second, then pulls back.  
  
“So what’s going on here?” Pete asks.  
  
“You ask a lot of questions,” Ryan says, teasing. Then he answers seriously, “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. I don’t want to give that up right now.”  
  
“I don’t want you to, either,” Pete says. “I want you. Bad.”  
  
“I know the feeling,” Ryan says. “So we can keep doing… whatever this is. At least till you go on tour. I’ll figure my shit out soon, but I want to have you for a little while before I do.”  
  
“Yeah,” Pete says. “A week and a half. I can do a week and a half of this.” He pauses, then says, “Does it make us shit people that we’re talking about doing this?”  
  
“We were shit people already,” is Ryan’s answer. “I might have to get going.”  
  
“Stay,” Pete begs.  
  
“I don’t think I can. Brendon-“  
  
“You got in a fight with Brendon. You can tell him you came here and then went to the studio and slept on the couch to blow off steam. It’s a good excuse. It makes sense. In the next week and a half I’m not gonna be able to sleep with you. Let’s just do this tonight.”  
  
And Ryan really does want to do this, at least right now. “Fine, you’ve convinced me,” he says, smiling.  
  
Pete smiles. “Good.” He slides down the bed and kisses Ryan. Ryan kisses back, and they make out for a little while, still half-asleep and warm. When Pete pulls away, he smirks.  
  
“You still might be too young for me,” Pete says. Ryan laughs.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon he’ll be back in Vegas with his boyfriend, and then they’ll see the world together. This was a crazy summer, but Ryan grew up. He knows he did.

The next week might be the weirdest week of Ryan’s life.  
  
He leaves Pete’s house the morning after that first night and comes home to an incredibly apologetic Brendon. Ryan apologizes, too, and they kiss and make up and cry a little bit. Brendon doesn’t even ask where Ryan slept the night before. Ryan knows it’s because Brendon trusts him. He doesn’t care because he knows Ryan would take care of himself, wouldn’t do anything stupid.  
  
Ryan sort of wishes Brendon would ask.  
  
After that, Ryan falls into a routine. His days are spent in the studio, where he tries really hard to care until eventually it’s real again. He realizes that it’s the songs that make him feel this way. After Lying went so well, he doesn’t really care how the rest of them turn out. They’ve already recorded the ones he wrote last summer and the ones right after his dad died. The last few don’t mean much to Ryan anymore. He makes a mental note to only write things that matter for the next album.  
  
His evenings are spent with Pete, under the guise of talking about the album since it looks like Pete won’t be there to supervise the last week or so of recording. In truth, there’s not too much talking involved, at least not at the beginning. The first few hours Ryan gets alone with Pete are spent in a blur of mouths and skin and heat. Pete makes him feel like he’s sixteen again, getting off on sneaking around, giggling about nothing, laughing during sex. They do it anywhere they can- Pete’s hotel room, Pete’s car, Ryan’s car, a bathroom at a random restaurant in Annapolis- but never, ever Ryan’s apartment. After, Ryan and Pete talk a little bit. Pete always tries to get Ryan to talk about his fears, his dad, Brendon, but Ryan never opens up. And it hurts, because Ryan wants to, more than anything, but he doesn’t think it’s fair to open up to Pete when he can’t even open up to Brendon.  
  
And Ryan knows it should be okay to open up to Pete because Pete’s his best friend, but any idiot knows that it’s more than that now. It always will be. Even if Pete goes on tour and never talks to Ryan about this again, Ryan will know that Pete knows that the dynamic has changed. And Ryan can’t stop feeling things for Pete that he really shouldn’t feel. He ignores it, though. It’s just a side effect of the sex.  
  
His nights are spent with Brendon, maybe having sex, maybe not. He texts Pete sometimes, but never if he’s in bed with Brendon. If Brendon notices that Ryan’s a little more tired or he doesn’t last as long, he doesn’t say anything. He still holds Ryan when they sleep. He still asks how Ryan slept every morning. He is still every bit the boyfriend that Ryan fell for, the boyfriend that Ryan never thought he’d have and adores every second. Ryan’s still totally in love with Brendon. He’s just so confused about how to show it.  
  
There’s one night that he doesn’t go and see Pete. He says he doesn’t feel well, but really, he’s just not up to it. If there’s anything this whole thing has done for Ryan, it’s affirmed that Ryan really loves Brendon more than anything. Even after the crush that Ryan’s developed, nothing except Brendon really makes sense to Ryan. So he spends a night in the studio, laying down a rough version of the song he wrote for Brendon. He records it and puts it in a safe place in the studio. He’s going to give it to Brendon on their one year anniversary, just a month away, and he’s going to ask Brendon to marry him. Which, of course, is totally symbolic since he’s pretty sure they can’t get married anywhere in the US, but one day they’ll be able to. And Ryan wants to be first in line with Brendon when they can.  
  
On Saturday, the night before Pete leaves for Chicago to start up the tour, Brendon and Ryan throw a goodbye party in their apartment. The band is there, as is the production team, some friends they’ve met in Maryland, and Patrick, who came into Maryland to fly back with Pete since he has a hard time flying. Seeing Pete and Patrick together sort of makes Ryan’s heart ache. There could be something there if Pete wasn’t spending all his time with someone who’s in love with someone else.  
  
Ryan makes his rounds, then spends a lot of time in a corner with Spencer and Brendon laughing about the parties Spence threw last summer, how it brought them all together, brought them all here.  
  
Spencer leaves to make his rounds again and leaves Brendon and Ryan alone. “We met at one of his parties,” Brendon says.  
  
“Yeah, you were an ass,” Ryan responds, leaning into Brendon.  
  
“I think you fought back pretty hard.” Brendon kisses Ryan’s temple and whispers, “I could’ve had a really rough go of things if it wasn’t for you. You kind of saved me, Ry. Thank you. For loving me.”  
  
“Of course, babe.” Ryan kisses Brendon softly. It feels good to hear Brendon say that. Ryan’s purpose in life for so long has been Brendon, and it’s good to know that it’s counted for something. “Did you really hate me that first party?”  
  
“Wanna know a secret?”  
  
“I love secrets.”  
  
“I totally thought of you when I fooled around with Spencer after that first party.”  
  
Ryan giggles, and it’s just like last summer. Ryan’s giddy and in his element, next to the perfect, pretty boy he’s miraculously gotten to commit, and right now, everything is golden. “I’m gonna go out on the deck for a second, get some air, talk to people,” he says to Brendon, “but later tonight, you’re all mine. Till the sun comes up.”  
  
“I like the sound of that,” Brendon says, and he kisses Ryan and walks over to Jon.  
  
Ryan walks out on the deck, which is surprisingly empty. He takes a sip of his beer and looks out at what Maryland has to offer. Which, honestly, is not much. And it hasn’t been much all summer. It won’t be for the next month and a half they have to be here, through the editing process and picking singles and figuring out how they want to promote the album. But soon he’ll be back in Vegas with his boyfriend, and then they’ll see the world together. This was a crazy summer, but Ryan grew up. He knows he did.  
  
“Lost in thought?” Pete says from behind him. Ryan smiles.  
  
“A little,” he responds, turning around. “You excited for your tour?”  
  
“Yeah, kinda,” Pete says. “I mean, they’re always scary. And I don’t really have a lifeline.”  
  
“You have me.”  
  
“Yeah, but if I call you and tell you I miss you and want to see you, what are you gonna do? Tell your boyfriend that you’re gonna come pay me a conjugal visit?”  
  
“I’ll just tell you how much I miss you and wish I could be there,” Ryan says, aware that Pete is closing the gap between them. Soon Ryan’s crowded against the railing. He’s half-hard.  
  
“That’s what I like to hear,” Pete whispers, and his breath is hot, and Ryan honestly doesn’t know who starts the kiss, just that all of a sudden they’re kissing, and it’s the best kiss he’s ever gotten from Pete, and he never wants it to end, and he’s so happy they got curtains for the door onto the deck.  
  
Pete pulls away just barely enough to whisper, “Patrick’s not staying in my room. Come stay with me tonight.”  
  
“Pete, you know I can’t. What do I tell Brendon?”  
  
“Tell him it’s a sleepover.”  
  
“That’s lame. Look, I’ll- I’ll come in the morning. Early. We’ll make it count, okay? ‘Cause this is it.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Pete breathes, then they’re kissing again, hot and desperate and deep.  
  
Ryan doesn’t know how long they’re out there, just that Brendon’s not around when he gets back into the apartment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I loved you with every ounce of my being. I would’ve walked on water for you. But I felt you leaving me, don’t think I didn’t. The least you could’ve done was spare me all of this. You could’ve told me the truth.”

Everyone’s left or leaving, and Ryan hasn’t seen Brendon for about an hour. He’s looked everywhere in the apartment, but he’s not there. Spencer said Brendon went to get some air, but that was ages ago. He wants to text Brendon, but he can’t find his phone. Of course tonight would end on a shitty note.  
  
About ten minutes after Pete and Patrick, the last people there, have left, the front door opens and Brendon strolls in. Ryan perks up from the couch.  
  
“Where have you been?”  
  
Brendon doesn’t answer. He goes straight into the bedroom.  
  
Ryan follows. “Oh, are you that eager? Okay, I guess I can-“ Ryan stops when he sees Brendon, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, trying and failing to hide the fact that he’s crying.  
  
“What’s up?” Ryan asks, walking toward the bed.  
  
“No,” Brendon spits, anger filling his body and his tone. “Don’t come any closer to me.”  
  
“Um, Brendon?”  
  
“Do you wanna know what Patrick fucking Stump asked me tonight?” Brendon says, his voice deep and bitter. “Patrick Stump asked me when you and I had broken up, since no one had told him anything about it. And before I could answer that no, you and I had not broken up, he asked me if it was awkward living with you. And before I could ask him what the _fuck_ he was talking about, he asked me when you and Pete started dating.”  
  
Brendon stops talking. He’s breathing heavily. He looks like he could kill Ryan. And Ryan… can’t say a word.  
  
“Nothing to say? Hmm?” Brendon says, his voice dripping with mockery and hate. “Wanna hear the rest of my story? Okay. Well when I finally did ask him what he was talking about, he told me that he went out to the deck to get some air, but he had to come right back in because you and Pete were getting kind of hot and heavy.”  
  
Ryan clears his throat, trying to find a way to deny it, deny everything, trying to find a way to stop this, but Brendon looks like he has more to say.  
  
“Oh, I’m not fucking done yet,” Brendon says. “I figured, you know, Pete’s a pretty physical guy, right? He hangs all over everyone and Patrick seemed a little tipsy so maybe he saw wrong. And, being the trusting boyfriend that I am and trying to stop rumors before they started, I decided that if I just went through your phone to show Patrick some of our text messages from the past few days, I could prove we were still together. But my name was not the first in your incoming messages. No, it was Pete’s. So, being naturally curious, I looked through them.”  
  
Brendon pulls Ryan’s phone out of his back pocket. Ryan’s heart drops to the ground.  
  
“Wanna hear some highlights? ‘God, ry, you were so good to me today. Your mouth is just as good for sucking cock as it is for singing.’ ‘Can’t wait to see you tonight. Those jeans look so good.’ ‘Wanna see a movie tonight? I wanna do more today than just having sex.’ There are a lot of other ones I’d love to read, but they’re a bit too obscene.”  
  
Brendon is crying now, choking on his words, and all Ryan wants to do is hold him, protect him. But Ryan’s the one who hurt him.  
  
“You have nothing to say? NOTHING?!” Brendon yells. “How could you _do_ this to me, Ryan?!? To _us_?!? What the fuck happened? I gave you everything I had. I tried to be there for you, as much or as little as you needed. I stayed here. I did this for YOU! We all did! Who was holding your hand at your dad’s funeral? Who helped you write these songs? Who pushed you to record them?!? I’m pretty fucking sure it _wasn’t_ Pete. Tell me if I’m wrong here!”  
  
Ryan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The fifteen seconds of silence feels like fifty years. It’s too much. Ryan thinks he’s going to be sick.  
  
“Are you _fucking kidding me_?!? Do you know what I gave up for you? I gave up my life, I gave up any normal future I had. I gave up my goddamn family. FOR YOU! And you repay me by sucking Pete Wentz’s dick, just like every other band slut groupie fangirl _whore_ in the country! You really think you’re special to him? You really think you mean anything? I tried to make you feel special. I tried to make you feel like you meant something. I LOVED YOU! Does that mean a damn thing to you? At _all_?!?”  
  
Brendon has got a set of lungs on him. He’s so loud, Ryan thinks he’s probably going deaf. He tries to think of a way to explain it, to say it was just letting off steam, to say it’s over as of tomorrow, as of _right now_ , that being with Pete made him realize how important Brendon is, but it all sounds so stupid and shitty now that he’s trying to rationalize it.  
  
His brain is moving so fast he almost misses it when Brendon throws Ryan’s phone at him. It misses him by half an inch and lands with a crash on the wall. It falls to the floor in three pieces. The thud is the loudest sound in the room.  
  
“You need to get the fuck out, right now,” Brendon says, suddenly quiet, and this is worse, this is so much worse than yelling. “I’m making an executive decision that you are out of the band. It’s not yours anymore. It stopped being yours when you started fucking everything up. And so did I. I never, _ever_ , want to see your face again.”  
  
Ryan wants to plead, wants to cry, wants to say he’s sorry for everything. Instead, the first thing that comes out of his mouth this whole time is “My things.”  
  
Brendon laughs, cruel and cutting and _hurt_ , and says, “I’ll send your things to _Pete._ Get out.”  
  
Ryan starts to leave, but Brendon stops him by saying, “I loved you with every ounce of my being. I would’ve walked on water for you. But I felt you leaving me, don’t think I didn’t. The least you could’ve done was spare me all of this. You could’ve told me the truth.”  
  
“None of this was your fault,” Ryan says, his voice breaking.  
  
“You don’t have to state the obvious,” Brendon says, voice dripping venom, and Ryan leave before he digs himself deeper into the hole he’s in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are at least three more chapters coming, so it should be done before the weekend if I motivate myself properly. Yay!!!
> 
> PS- Thank you to everyone who's been following and commenting. You guys are fueling this crazy fire and I'm so happy you're enjoying it!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then he drives back to the hotel and walks in the empty room. He remembers that he’s staying in a hotel and not sharing an apartment with Brendon. He doesn’t have a band. He doesn’t have the person he loves. Everything in this room, including memories of Pete, serve as a cheap replacement.

He goes to Pete’s hotel because there’s nowhere else to go. There’s no one else he’d rather see, and he knows that Pete’s alone. He still hasn’t gathered himself properly by the time he’s knocking on Pete’s door, and when Pete opens it, Ryan’s crying.  
  
“Ryan, what’s wrong?” Pete asks.  
  
“Brendon… me and Brendon…” Ryan can’t even get the words out. He chokes on the thought, on the memory of Brendon’s face when he kicked Ryan out. It’s okay, though, because Pete seems to get it.  
  
“Come in,” Pete says, opening the door a little wider, and Ryan walks into the hotel room to find Patrick sitting on the foot of the bed.  
  
“Patrick, can you… ya know.”  
  
“Oh! Oh, yeah, definitely,” Patrick says, fumbling and a little awkward. Suddenly, Ryan’s pissed at Patrick. Like, irrationally pissed.  
  
“Brendon and I hadn’t fucking broken up,” he spits as Patrick walks past him.  
  
“But you were kissing Pete. I just thought…” Patrick doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t have to. And anyway, he’s interrupted by a fairly melodramatic sob from Ryan.  
  
“Uh…” Patrick stands next to Ryan, trying to figure out what to do. Pete drags him away. Through his tears, Ryan’s vaguely aware that Pete’s whispering some kind of explanation to Patrick. Ryan’s too tired to care what exactly Pete is saying. He drags himself to Pete’s bed and curls up, still sobbing. He hears Pete say goodbye to Patrick and then Pete is right next to Ryan, lightly rubbing his back.  
  
“You wanna talk about it?” Pete asks, but he’s not prying, Ryan can tell.  
  
“The details don’t matter. He found out. It’s done.”  
  
“You wanna stay here? With me?”  
  
Ryan turns around to face Pete. “Of course.”  
  
Ryan and Pete strip down to their boxers and crawl into bed. Pete turns the lights off and holds Ryan. The only reason Ryan doesn’t protest is because he’s too exhausted. He’s exhausted, but he can’t sleep. He resists the urge to toss and turn for about fifteen minutes before he finally turns around to face Pete.  
  
“I’m having trouble sleeping,” Ryan says quietly.  
  
Pete laughs. “I always have trouble sleeping. You really don’t think we should talk about it?”  
  
“You have to know what happened. He found out about us. He freaked the fuck out. He threw me out of the apartment and the band.”  
  
“He kicked you out of the band?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess I should’ve mentioned that a little earlier.”  
  
“Okay, well the album’s pretty much done, right? I’m sure by the time they start talking about a tour, you can talk yourself back in.”  
  
“I don’t know that I want to, Pete. It’s just gonna be so hard.”  
  
“Yeah, I understand.” Pete pauses, takes a breath, then says, “I know it may not be the right time, and I’m not Brendon at all, but I’m leaving in the morning. Do you think we should maybe talk about what this means for us?”  
  
“Pete, I’m not gonna promise you that I can be in this relationship.”  
  
“I don’t need you to promise anything. But do you think we could try?”  
  
Ryan considers it. He definitely feels something for Pete. And they’ve been best friends for years. They’re both a little fucked up. They could support each other, the way they need support. And Pete’s leaving tomorrow, it wouldn’t be overbearing or anything. He could grieve and Pete would be waiting for him.  
  
While he’s silent, Pete says, “I’m not asking for some crazy committed always-attached-to-each-other thing. I just really like you. I think I have for a while, and I just want to try this.”  
  
“I like you, too,” Ryan says, and he knows this isn’t going to be good for a while, and he knows that he’s screwing up Pete’s chances with Patrick, and he knows that Pete will never measure up to Brendon. But he lost Brendon, so it doesn’t even fucking matter. “Yeah, we can try.”  
  
They talk a little bit longer, making plans to talk and for Ryan to come out for a few shows, before they fall asleep, not holding each other but holding hands.   
  
Pete wakes up early in the morning to finish packing. Ryan wakes up with him and drinks coffee while he watches Pete continue with his incredibly successful life. He guesses he’s Pete’s trophy boyfriend now, the one that follows him around to shows and gives him the thumbs up in the studio. Ryan feels shitty about it, but he knows he deserves it. He threw everything away for Pete. He might as well make it work.  
  
“You sure you don’t wanna bring me to the airport?” Pete asks when he’s done packing.   
  
Ryan attempts a smile. “I’m exhausted, Pete. Yesterday was nuts. Maybe next time.”  
  
Pete beams. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go downstairs and meet Patrick then. Before I go, I’ll tell them to put the room on my card for another month or so. Then you can come spend some time with me.”   
  
This time, Ryan doesn’t have to try to smile. Pete does know how to take care of him. “Sounds good. Have a safe flight, okay?”  
  
“I’ll call you the second I land.” Pete leans in, and Ryan lets him kiss him goodbye. Pete picks up his bags and says, “Take care of the apartment.”  
  
“For the last time, this is a hotel room, not an apartment,” Ryan says.  
  
“Don’t insult the apartment while you’re in it! I’ll talk to you tonight.” Then Pete’s out the door.  
  
A few minutes after Pete leaves, Ryan gets dressed and finds somewhere to replace his phone. He knows Pete’s going to be texting and calling as much as possible, and Ryan didn’t say anything about Brendon breaking his phone. As soon as he gets a replacement, he texts Pete: _It’s been like an hour and I miss you already_. After it sends, Ryan looks at the message. Yeah, he means it. Maybe he can do this. Maybe it’ll be okay.  
  
But then he drives back to the hotel and walks in the empty room. He remembers that he’s staying in a hotel and not sharing an apartment with Brendon. He doesn’t have a band. He doesn’t have the person he loves. Everything in this room, including memories of Pete, serve as a cheap replacement.   
  
He sits on the floor and really cries, without holding anything back or holding anything in, for the first time. It won’t be okay. He’s not stupid enough to believe otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep so this will 100 percent be done by Sunday or Monday!! It's two chapters left, and I think I'm gonna hold off on posting until I have them both written, so it may be closer to Monday. Happy reading!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst part of his day is when Pete stops responding to Ryan for three hours (because he’s playing shows), there’s nothing on TV, and all Ryan can think about is Brendon. Ryan wants Brendon to be happy, but he’d much rather Brendon be happy with him.

It’s a rough month. Ryan doesn’t really leave the hotel room. Pete told the hotel that everything, including room service, should be put on his card, and Ryan takes full advantage of that. He lives off of room service pizza and the cheap beer he buys from the corner store down the street. Not many people check up on him. Pete does every day, obviously. He doesn’t hear from Jon, and certainly not from Brendon (of course, Brendon probably thinks that Ryan’s phone is in three pieces in a dumpster somewhere). Spencer texts him once, saying he’s sorry Ryan left the band and that everything has been so hard on him. Spencer’s an alright guy.  
  
A few days after Pete left, Brendon sent a duffel bag full of Ryan’s clothes to the hotel. The only problem was that, after a year of sharing clothes and doing communal laundry, Brendon clearly didn’t remember exactly what was Ryan’s and what was Brendon’s. When Ryan opened the duffel bag, he found pretty much all his vests, all his outlandish pants, and all his scarves- probably the most obvious memories of Ryan- but about half the shirts were Brendon’s. And at the bottom of the bag was a faded red hoodie that was absolutely Brendon’s. Ryan put it on immediately. He’s barely taken it off.   
  
He writes a lot, mostly because he’s got nothing else to do. He was being honest when he told Pete that he didn’t care how he made another record, he was going to do it. But by the looks of everything Ryan’s written in the last three and a half weeks, it’s gonna take a while for a good record to get made. All Ryan can write are lovesick self-loathing lyrics about the end of relationships. He writes about Brendon, sure, but he also writes about his dad, about Spencer, about the band. It’s his own brand of therapy, even if nothing he writes does his sense of loneliness and loss any justice. He’d probably die without his crappy lyrics.   
  
He also can’t write full songs. He just gets snippets of verses stuck in his head and writes them down on the complementary hotel memo pads. He’s filled two so far, but nothing worth expanding upon- just stupid, overly poetic lines like “I know it's mad, but if I go to hell, will you come with me or just leave?”, “Go spin circles for me, wound relentlessly around the words we used to sling”, and “I sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house in your shoes. I know it’s strange.” He doesn’t write that one down. Instead, he texts it to Pete, who loves it, asks if he can use it. Ryan says yes. He guesses Pete probably thinks Ryan’s writing about him. Ryan doesn’t care enough to clarify, and anyway, he knows it would ruin any semblance of a relationship he and Pete have.  
  
Pete texts and calls Ryan all the time, day and night, and Ryan responds dutifully. Now that Pete’s not around, the crush has faded, but Ryan likes talking to Pete anyway. They were friends first, and they’ll be friends after all this. Pete takes care of him, and Ryan knows Pete is attractive and good in bed and anyone would kill to be the one Pete calls all the time, so it’s really not a bad deal, except Ryan is completely in love with someone else. He knows it, and he thinks Pete does, too.  
  
The worst part of his day is when Pete stops responding to Ryan for three hours (because he’s playing shows), there’s nothing on TV, and all Ryan can think about is Brendon. Is he back to sleeping with a different guy every night? Is he bringing guys back to the apartment? Is someone asking about the gaudy couch that Brendon and Ryan picked out from the first Salvation Army they found in Maryland? Is Brendon telling people that story? Worst of all, Ryan wonders if Brendon has a boyfriend. Ryan wants Brendon to be happy, but he’d much rather Brendon be happy with him.  
  
One night, he splurges on some weed, gets incredibly high, and writes the first love song he’s written since the one he wrote for Brendon. He finally writes a full song, full of beautiful metaphors and declarations of love and loss, and promptly passes out. He wakes up 14 hours later and rereads the lyrics. They’re strange, but they’re pretty good. Ryan thinks he could write lots of songs like this. He spends the rest of the day thinking about what to call it. He finally settles on Northern Downpour. It sounds deep and beautiful, like the song is. Like Brendon.  
  
A month passes like this, Ryan in self-imposed solitary confinement, his only solace beer, writing, and The Price Is Right. And one night, totally randomly, there’s a knock on the door. Ryan thinks. He hasn’t ordered room service, Pete’s flying him out to Texas in two weeks so it can’t be him. Maybe Brendon’s sent more stuff over. Maybe it’s the laundry people. Maybe Pete’s sent him flowers or a dog or something. He gets off the bed, not bothering to smooth down his uncombed hair or change out of his sweatpants and Brendon’s sweatshirt, and makes his way over to the door, not really knowing who he expects to see on the other side.  
  
He really, really doesn’t expect to see Brendon. But that’s who it is.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the bed you belong in.”
> 
> “I know.”

“Uh-“ Ryan stutters, trying to make his brain catch up with the fact that _Brendon is in front of him_ so he doesn’t do something stupid like kiss him.  
  
“Is that my sweatshirt?” Brendon asks, his voice a little sharp.  
  
“Yeah, uh, it was in that bag you sent. You want it?”  
  
“I’m good.” Brendon shoves his hands in his pockets, and he looks a little awkward. Ryan suddenly has the gut-wrenching thought that he was sent here by someone to get permission to use his lyrics or something. All business. “Hey, can I come in?”  
  
“Sure.” Ryan steps out of the way to let Brendon in.  
  
Brendon looks around and says, “Don’t hotels have, like, maid service?”  
  
Ryan looks around at the empty beer and coke cans on the floor, the dirty clothes piled everywhere, and the unmade bed. Brendon has a point. “It’s been kind of hard to focus on cleaning. I’ve had some other stuff to deal with.” Ryan meant it to sound cutting, but mostly he just sounds sad.  
  
“Like Pete?” Brendon responds, sounding angry and defensive.  
  
“No, Brendon, Pete and I aren’t really… it’s not like that. He’s just helping me out.” Which is not actually a lie because that’s how Ryan feels about it.  
  
“Can I sit?” Brendon asks, motioning to the bed. Ryan nods.  
  
Brendon sits and waits. It takes Ryan a few seconds to realize that Brendon’s waiting for him to sit down, too. He sits on the bed, making sure there’s enough room between them that Brendon won’t freak out.  
  
“This month has been really fucking hard,” Brendon starts, and Ryan makes a noise of agreement. “The record sounds really good. I did the guitar parts you weren’t there for, which was really only for a song and a half so it was fine. We’ve been editing it and it sounds amazing. You’re gonna be really proud of it.”  
  
“Yeah, be sure to send me a copy,” Ryan snaps. He doesn’t want to hear how well Brendon is doing without him. He doesn’t want to hear how well his band is doing with his lyrics but without him there.  
  
“Calm down,” Brendon says. “The record is good, but I’m not. I don’t like being alone, Ryan. It’s hard and awful and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m totally alone. I don’t have family, I don’t have you, I don’t have anything. The apartment’s too big and the studio doesn’t have enough people in it. I brought a few guys home but I didn’t sleep with them because I just… I couldn’t.”  
  
“Okay,” Ryan says, void of emotion. He’s waiting for the part where Brendon just fucking says why he’s here.  
  
“Then the other day I was in the studio because I didn’t wanna go out with the guys and I didn’t wanna go home. And I found this.” Brendon pulls a CD out of the pocket of his sweatshirt. It’s in a white paper sleeve that says, in black sharpie, FOR BRENDON, 1 YEAR.  
  
“Oh my god,” Ryan says. He doesn’t know if he should be happy or sad. He has no clue what this means.  
  
“I listened to it and, goddamn Ryan, it’s beautiful. You wrote this for me?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, I was just fucking around, I don’t know if it’s that great, but yeah. It’s for you. I was gonna give it to you tomorrow.”  
  
“Because tomorrow’s- You remembered-“  
  
“Yeah, I didn’t forget. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I don’t think about you all the time.”  
  
“Same here,” Brendon says, and he sounds vulnerable. For a second, it sounds like everything’s going to be okay, but then Brendon says, “I’m not sorry for flipping out at you. I’m not sorry for breaking up with you. I’m not sorry for kicking you out. What happened with me and Spence was _nothing_ compared to you and Pete.”  
  
“I know. I can’t justify it. I’m not trying to,” Ryan responds. “I was so fucked up, B. I didn’t know who to talk to or what to say to anyone. I still am fucked up, honestly. But I’m better. I know what I want now. And it’s you.” Ryan realizes he maybe shouldn’t be explaining all this, but he can’t stop himself. “I love you, and if you tell me we can’t be together, if you tell me you don’t want me back, that the band doesn’t need me, that you’re going back to Vegas without me, I’ll still love you, and I’ll still write you songs like that. I’ll still want you, no matter what.”  
  
Brendon is silent, and Ryan realizes how honest he just was. If Brendon walked out, Ryan would still love him. He just really hopes that Brendon doesn’t walk out.  
  
“Well,” Brendon finally says, “This song is perfect. It’s everything I’ve wanted you to say. And I don’t know if we can go back to the way it was a month ago, but if you really mean everything in this song…” He runs his hand through his hair. “Do you wanna get a drink with me?”  
  
Ryan’s heart skips a beat. He smiles broadly. “Brendon Urie, are you asking me on a date?”  
  
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. And for the love of god, please take a shower first.” Brendon sounds like he’s being an ass, but his smile says differently, so Ryan doesn’t care. He rushes to shower and make himself presentable. It takes a little while longer than usual because Ryan hasn’t really been out for a month or so. Brendon takes it all in stride, laying in the bed and watching TV, just like it used to be. And Ryan can’t help but think that this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.  
  
They go to a pretty nice bar and order pretty expensive scotch. Brendon talks about the album and the editing process for a long time. Ryan doesn’t have much to say on the subject, but he’s happy to listen to Brendon about pretty much anything. Brendon says he told everyone Ryan was having a hard time adjusting to everything and it finally caught up with him, so he was taking an indefinite break. Ryan thinks that probably wasn’t too far off.  
  
They decide to go to another bar and try some weird summer beers. They’re not terrible, and Ryan sips his watermelon ale as he tells Brendon about the little things he’s been writing, about how maybe they could be songs if Ryan just focused enough to write them.  
  
“You’re always so hard on yourself,” Brendon says. “You’re amazing. You don’t have to talk yourself down all the time.”  
  
Ryan’s heart swells.  
  
They go to a few more bars and drink a few more beers and talk about nothing in particular. They reminisce about last summer, they talk about the album, how crazy the live show should be. Brendon’s talking like Ryan’s back in the band, but Ryan doesn’t ask him to clarify. He doesn’t want to chance it. He’s feeling good, though. He can sense that neither of them want to go home.  
  
After bar number five (six? seven?), they’re pretty tipsy, and they’re within walking distance to the hotel, so Ryan decides to say goodnight and let this one end on a good note.  
  
“Hey, I better head back. I’m really tired and a little drunk. I’ll maybe call you tomorrow, though,” he says.  
  
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “Goodnight.”  
  
And then Brendon lunges forward and catches Ryan’s mouth with his own.  
  
They kiss on the street corner for what feels like hours, but Ryan doesn’t care. He cards his fingers through Brendon’s hair and presses against him and it’s like the world has stopped. It’s perfect. It’s everything that Ryan missed.  
  
“Come home with me,” Brendon breathes when they finally pull away for air. Ryan nods.  
  
Brendon and Ryan walk back to the apartment, which is a fifteen minute walk filled with sexual tension. They keep bumping into each other and holding onto each other when they stumble. When they’re at the last block, Ryan’s tired of the act. He takes hold of Brendon’s hand and is totally relieved when Brendon doesn’t push him away.  
  
Immediately upon crossing the threshold into the apartment, Brendon kisses Ryan again. Ryan knows this could probably just be because Brendon’s drunk and a little sad, but Ryan doesn’t care. When Brendon pulls Ryan into the bedroom, he decides to just make the best of tonight, even if it’s the last night they have.  
  
They get into it pretty quickly, and even though Ryan’s tipsy, it’s as good as he remembers it. Brendon gives him everything, and Ryan takes it. He can't believe this is happening- these are Brendon's hands, this is Brendon's mouth, everything around him screams _BrendonBrendonBrendon._ It's like coming home. Brendon comes hard, and Ryan follows soon after. Brendon collapses next to Ryan and kisses his cheek.  
  
“This is the bed you belong in,” he whispers, his voice totally sober and full of love.  
  
“I know,” Ryan says.  
  
They fall asleep pretty quickly after that, but not before Ryan looks at Brendon’s clock and realizes that it’s 3:30.  
  
“Happy one-year,” Ryan mumbles, half asleep, not sure if Brendon’s awake.  
  
“Happy one year, Ry. I love you,” Brendon replies.


	15. Chapter 15

The move back to Vegas was easy compared to the conversation that Ryan had to have with Pete a few days after he and Brendon got back together. Ryan knows Pete understood, but he also knows how much it hurt Pete. It seems like Pete’s doing well now, though. He and Patrick are finally getting somewhere. He gets a lot of his information in snippets- quick texts here and there from Pete. Ryan was right to think that they would be friends no matter what. It's a little awkward, but it's getting better. The real barrier of their friendship is Brendon. Brendon's hatred for Pete runs pretty deep these days. So deep that the band, Fall Out Boy, and the label are all fighting to convince Brendon to tour with Fall Out Boy. So far, Brendon refuses to do it. He won't tell anyone why, just that it would be a conflict of interest, but Ryan knows that Brendon couldn't handle being anywhere near Pete right now. Maybe ever.  
  
Just before the move, Brendon and Ryan talked about getting separate apartments back in Vegas. Brendon was really nervous about jumping right back into everything, and they were going to be living on the same tour bus for a year anyway, but eventually they realized they couldn’t fight it. Brendon’s home was in Ryan’s apartment. Brendon knew it as much as Ryan did. So they spent a pretty blissful month on Ryan’s futon, rediscovering themselves and each other, writing and talking and having lots of sex. A blissful month that’s going to come to a close in twelve hours.  
  
“How was therapy today? I forgot to ask,” Brendon asks, idly playing with the silver band on a chain around his neck. Ryan gave it to him a few days after getting back into Vegas, and Brendon took it with tears in his eyes. He wears it on a chain because, for some weird reason, Teen Beat has started to care about the members of Panic! at the Disco and Brendon doesn’t want marriage rumors starting. He's got his guitar in his lap and he's reading through the memo pads that Ryan wrote manic lyrics on for a month. Ryan really wishes Brendon hadn't taken the memo pads, but Brendon insists they'll be a good jumping-off point when they have to start writing for another album.  
  
“It was good. He asked me if I was having problems with the sudden fame. I said no, but he thinks it’s gonna wear on me eventually. We talked about anxiety medication, but I don’t wanna do that yet.”  
  
“It doesn’t make you less of a person if you take meds,” Brendon reminds him. “Whatever helps you.”  
  
“We’ll see how the tour goes. I’ve got him and you on speed dial, so I’ll be fine. At least for a little while.”  
  
“Okay. As long as you think you’ll be alright.”  
  
“Of course I will be. I’ve got you.”  
  
“Of course.” Brendon smiles and kisses Ryan sweetly. Ryan can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have someone who loves him this unconditionally. He’s lucky to have his band. He’s lucky to have this life.  
  
“I love you,” Ryan sighs. He’s never meant it more.  
  
“I love you, too,” Brendon replies. “Now, how about taking this futon for one more go before we have to spend a year negotiating bunks?”  
  
“Sounds like a wonderful plan.”  
  
Brendon pushes him down. Ryan goes willingly, marveling at how great his life is. It’s been a hell of a year, but he’s come out of it with what matters.  
  
Yeah, things are looking pretty damn good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not real. None of it even remotely resembles reality in terms of timeline, characters, etc, so don't kid yourselves. I don't own the characters, nor do I own any of the music alluded to in this piece of fiction.
> 
> So as I was writing this, It Could Be Me broke 1,000 views. I wanna thank every single one of you who stuck with me, Brendon, and Ryan through this story. Everyone who commented, gave this kudos, or read it till the end means soooo much to me!
> 
> This is totally unbeta'd. Eventually I'll go back and read through it, but for now, excuse the mistakes. :):)


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